North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) by Carrie Bebris Page B

Elizabeth’s expectation, they did not meet their host in the drawing room and proceed to the dinner table; rather, the housekeeper escorted them straight to the dining parlor. It was a spacious room, richly appointed, with an enormous chandelier overhead and a long table set for three. The chandelier was unlit, forcing the entire burden of illuminating the vast chamber on two candelabra standing at attention on the table and an indifferent blaze in the massive marble hearth. These lights made a noble effort at dispelling theshadows that cloaked the room’s perimeter, but proved inadequate to the task.
    One place setting rested at the head of the table, with the other two across from each other about a third of the way down. The housekeeper directed them to the latter, informed them that her master would arrive momentarily, and departed.
    They took their seats. Though Pemberley boasted a grand dining parlor and Elizabeth had enjoyed the hospitality of others similar in scale, she felt dwarfed by the proportions of the room.
    “Perhaps it is the absence of our host,” Darcy suggested in response to her observation.
    “Or of proper lighting. I can scarcely see my silverware.”
    Lightning flashed. Elizabeth jumped at the sudden sight of the housekeeper behind Darcy. She had not noticed the servant reenter the room.
    “Captain Tilney sends his most sincere apologies. He feels indisposed at present and must settle for a tray in his chamber. He urges you, however, to enjoy the meal after your long journey. He will meet you afterward in the drawing room.”
    “If the captain suffers indisposition, perhaps he would prefer to receive us in the morning,” Darcy offered.
    “No—he is quite decided upon meeting you tonight.”
    “I hope his complaint is of a minor nature,” Elizabeth said. “Is the captain an older gentleman?”
    “Not at all. He is of middle years, and still quite fine to look upon.”
    “Has he a wife?”
    “No,” she said sharply.
    She brought in the first course—some sort of soup Elizabeth could not quite identify, though Darcy almost became far too personally acquainted with it when the housekeeper’s inattentive serving threatened to pour it into his lap. They were soon left alone again, with only the sounds of the storm for company. Rain pelted the windows, and cracks of thunder punctuated their conversation.
    Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze in the flickering candlelight. “And you thought a visit with Captain Tilney sounded intriguing before we left Bath.”
    “This is certainly one of the more interesting places to which you have brought me since our marriage.”
    “More interesting than Mr. Dashwood’s town house?”
    She smiled. “Mr. Dashwood’s residence had only an antique looking glass to lend it character. Here we have already encountered a housekeeper who cannot keep house but who can materialize out of nowhere, been installed in an apartment last used decades ago by the home’s dead mistress, and played hide-and-seek with a mysterious host who never appears. All this, and we have not yet been within these walls a full hour. Even Mr. Dashwood’s town house cannot compete with the allure of Northanger Abbey. Indeed, I think only the castle of Udolpho holds more charm.”
    “Are you wishing we had declined the captain’s invitation?”
    “Indeed not! I find this all excessively diverting. But if we discover a black veil anywhere on the premises, you can raise it up.”
    She tested the soup and glanced back at Darcy. “Mock turtle?”
    “Certainly a mockery of something.”
    The soup was followed by successive courses that invited speculation as to whether Captain Tilney’s indisposition was merely an excuse to avoid the fare. Or perhaps a digestive ailment caused by it.
    When they finished the meal, the housekeeper escorted them across the hall, through an antechamber, and into a grand drawing room. Pier glasses and other mirrors lining the walls endlessly reflected the light